The Post Punk Kitchen

The term ‘post-punk’ once brought to my imagination a spiky-haired individual who pogo-ed down the street in Doc Martens, delivering letters for Royal Mail whilst listening to the Sex Pistols’ God Save The Queen, perhaps having drawn a mustache and glasses on the aforementioned royal’s image on each stamp. I since learnt that it was the name given to a musical movement. Well, I’ve heard of bowel movements; presumably ‘musical movements’ are somehow related. My morning excavation isn’t particularly melodic or rhythmic, but I have had the misfortune of hearing certain musicians’ efforts that sound like the audible equivalent of a freshly laid turd. But let’s get back on topic – The Post Punk Kitchen. What has Vegan cookery got to do with bad music? Well the honest answer to that is, ‘I don’t fucking know’. I’m just clutching straws and desperately trying to find ‘punk’ things to write about. And apparently you can ‘defy consumerism’ by baking bread. I tried it, and it didn’t work. In fact, quite the opposite. Baking my own bread actually promoted consumerism, because the bread was so tasty that I had to consume it all in one go. Perhaps I could try smashing the state by making chocolate brownies, or even better – I could fuck the system by gently griddling a few tender asparagus spears, then tossing them in high quality extra virgin olive oil and a little vinegar, seasoning with a smidgeon of salt and freshly ground black pepper. Complete gastronomic anarchism on a plate.